


A Shovel and A Rose

by brightened



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightened/pseuds/brightened
Summary: Severus looks to Hogwarts as freedom from his abusive father but he can’t escape his own bad behavior.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for abuse, torture, murder, and voyeurism.

“Mum?” A small pale hand, illuminated only by moonlight, reached out and grasped the sleeping woman by the shoulder. It gave a firm shake. “Mum, wake up!” The woman stirred and rolled onto her back. Her breaths turned raspy but her eyes stayed still and closed.

The hand withdrew to hang limply by the side of a small thin boy standing in a wet nightgown. He peered through unwashed strands of black hair to stare at the empty glass bottles on his mother’s nightstand.

She wasn’t going to wake and that meant the boy had a very important job to do on his own - and quickly.

He padded into the bathroom, pulled his nightgown over his head, and rinsed it under the tub’s faucet. Then he wrung out the gown and shoved it to the very bottom of the dirty laundry basket.

The boy returned to his room, redressed, and regarded his bed. He worried his lip between his teeth as he considered the soaked sheets and, after several minutes of trembling thought, pulled them off the bed and also rinsed and hid them.

He began to feel that he might get away with hiding his accident. That small flame of hope was soon extinguished when he opened the linen closet and found it empty save a single hand towel.

He picked up his duvet from the floor. There was a small wet spot that he placed face down as he carefully spread the blanket out to cover the now bare mattress. Then he laid down on top, folded his hands across his chest, and closed his eyes.

He did not sleep but only pretended to as his mind raced, imagining all the different ways his father would react if he came home to yet another nighttime accident.

As the first rays of light crept into the home a click cracked through the silence, signaling the door had been opened and subsequently that his father had returned. The boy’s desperate heart thudded in his chest so loudly that he feared Tobias could hear it.

“Severus?” his father called out. Severus rocketed off the bed and out to the living room where his father stood, blanketed in a thin layer of sawdust and sweat from his night shift at the lumber mill.

“Good morning, Dad,” Severus said as pleasantly as he could manage. His fingers found the edge of the threadbare nightshirt he now wore and he worried it between his fingers. _Please don’t go in my room, please don’t in my room, please, please._

“Good morning, son,” Tobias Snape answered and Severus relaxed just the tiniest bit. He was in a good mood, then. Maybe, even if he found out about the accident, he’d be okay about it. “How do you feel about whipping up some breakfast for your old man?”

“Of course,” Severus said and, impulsively, threw his arms around his father. “My pleasure.” 

Tobias chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair. “Little brown-noser,” he said and turned toward his own bedroom. Severus skittered off to the kitchen and busied himself with the stove. He’d only just placed the pan on the heat when the tinkling sound of broken glass cracked through the silence.

“Oh no,” Severus whispered. He began to tremble as he turned toward his parents’ bedroom. He’d forgotten. He’d been so wrapped up in the accident that he’d left the bottles sitting right on the nightstand for his dad to see.

“What the fuck is this?” Severus heard his father thunder and then no words followed but sounds: sheets rustling, a thump, a groan, a smack; his mother began to wail and the wail was quickly shortened by another smacking sound.

Tobias began to scream, to curse, to pummel his wife; Severus went to work cooking breakfast with shaking hands.

 _Pleasedon’tgoinmyroom_ , his mind screamed, over and over. If he saw the bare mattress now...if he smelled urine from that one spot on the duvet…

By the time the food was done, the house had fallen silent once again. Severus plated the meal and set it in his father’s seat. He filled a mug with the coffee he’d brewed and peeled back the tab on a cold can of beer. He placed the drinks next to the plate and then hesitated. Should he wait? Would his father be angrier at his presence or absence?

He stood in the kitchen worrying too long and his time to leave passed. The bedroom door opened. His mother’s soft sobs hit his ears, no longer muffled by the door. Severus’s cheeks flamed. It was his fault. He’d forgotten.

Tobias entered the kitchen, red-faced and breathing heavy. He slammed his body into the wooden kitchen chair and picked up the beer, draining it in several loud gulps.

“Your mother is a useless cunt,” he spat as he picked up the fork and stabbed his eggs. “Don’t get married, Severus.”

“Yes sir,” Severus said, twisting his shirt once again.

“Get your dick wet,” Tobias continued, “by all means. You might have a hard time with that; you have your mother’s nose.” He reached out and poked Severus in the nose with the oily fork. “But fuck whatever bitch will let you. And leave it at that.” Tobias finished his eggs and began to heap beans on top of his potato. “Another beer?”

Severus complied and managed to still his hands as he passed the drink over.

“You’re a good boy,” Tobias said. “Here.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled, slightly damp tenner. “Go into town. Get some fucking candy or something.” Tobias burped loudly. “Maybe a haircut so you don’t look like such a ponce.”

Severus’s ears burned as he grabbed the note and held it in his hand. When his father grunted and gestured with the fork, Severus knew he’d been dismissed and he walked back to his room. He shut the door carefully and then sunk to the floor, pressing his forehead to his knees.

He’d navigated another morning. Only twenty more to go until he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. It was the escape he’d been counting down to as long as he could remember and he was finally almost there. 

Severus went to his wardrobe and dug out the shoebox he used to store all the money his father handed him. Each bill represented a morning his mother had been beaten and he’d gone unscathed. He smoothed out the latest one on the edge of the wardrobe door and placed it in the box. One hundred and seventy pounds now.

He hid the shoebox back underneath several worn pairs of gray underwear and then dressed in the only street clothes he had - a dark pair of jeans, several sizes too large so that Severus had to tie it in place with a length of rope, and an old button-up of his father’s that hung to his knees.

Severus made a swift, silent exit from the house. He spent several hours strolling the nearby town, glowering at the residents who largely ignored him. They were accustomed to him skulking around. He spotted Petunia and Mr. Potter shopping at the deli and carefully avoided them.

When he returned home, he found his father reading the newspaper in the living room while his mother swept the floor. Her face was a mottled mix of purple and black and her throat was crossed with four thick marks exactly the size of Tobias’s fingers.

“Take out the trash, will you?” Tobias called out as he folded one section of the paper. Severus looked away from Eileen and hurried to the kitchen.

He tied the bag and heaved it outside. As he turned away from the can, he spotted a gray cat perched atop his father’s car, licking its hind leg.

“Shoo,” he hissed and flapped his hands at it. Tobias hated cats. The cat looked up from its grooming and leapt lightly off the car. It stalked up to Severus and rubbed its head on his jeans, purring audibly.

He turned and stared through the nearest window. He could see his father still reading but his mother had moved out of sight. Severus next turned his head to the neighboring house and saw the curtains were drawn.

He tugged his lower lip between his teeth and bit down, hard, as he crouched to the cat’s level. He placed one hand on top of its head and the cat arched its back happily.

Severus, trembling, whole body overheating, scooped the cat into his arms. The cat did not protest as it was carried through the backyard and into the nearby woods.

He walked until he felt lost in the thickness of the trees, confident that no one would hear any amount of noise from them. Then he placed the cat on the ground and untied the rope from around his waist. 

Later, Severus carried the cat’s body to a nearby stream. He shoved rocks down its throat and pushed the body into the current where it sank. He dipped his hands into the water and scrubbed the blood off, then swished the rope in the water until it was similarly clean though soaking wet and heavy. Severus coiled the rope and carried it with one hand as he trudged home, using the other to hold his pants up.

He returned to find the house empty and his bed freshly made. He stored the rope and changed out of his day clothes. Then he climbed under the covers and shut his eyes.

Behind his eyelids he saw the gray cat, heard the echoes of its final shrieks and hisses. The cat had tried to flay his hands and arms but Severus had, unintentionally, used magic to protect himself. Equal parts pleasure and regret flavored the memories. He pictured what Eileen would say if she’d seen him. Would she even be able to speak?

A week later, Severus cleaned his father’s tools as his mother cooked lunch. The house had been relatively peaceful since Tobias last beat Eileen. Severus hadn’t had any more bed wettings and he’d always remembered to trash Eileen’s bottles.

Tobias whistled from where he sat reading the latest paper. “Listen to this,” he said and began to read aloud. “Mutilated cat discovered on river bed. Locals Mr. and Mrs. Green, along with their four children, were shocked during what should have been a pleasant day at the lake. The family found their beloved family cat deceased from apparent unnatural causes. The cat, Mr. Big, was missing several toes, half his tail, and both eyes. Authorities are seeking any leads on the perpetrator or multiples thereof.” He scoffed. “It’s a damn cat. These authorities don’t have a better use for our taxes?” He grumbled a little more before tossing the section to the side.

Severus sat quietly on the floor, working hard to keep his face flat and expressionless. After eleven years tip-toeing around his father, it was not too difficult.

“May I read that?” Severus asked as casually as he could, pointing at the paper his father had just narrated.

“Knock yourself out.” Severus folded the page neatly and tucked it into his pocket before resuming his chores.

That night, as his mother slept and his father worked, Severus unfolded the paper and cut out the article about the cat with a pair of scissors. He tucked it away in his money box and trashed the rest of the page.

He tried to go to sleep but his mind kept reciting the news article. Mutilated, family cat, four children, missing both eyes. He’d almost forgotten that last part.

Eventually - he had no way of knowing the time - Severus threw off his covers and crept out of the house in his nightgown. He followed the street lights down the very familiar path to Lily’s house. The sight of the well-maintained home, the smoke plume from the chimney, the worn welcome mat - it all sent a stab of envy through him.

But that wasn’t why he’d ventured out. 

Severus made his way to the window he knew to be Lily’s and angled himself just right to be able to peek in through the blind slats.

It could not be too late for Lily was awake. His stomach churned to see her sitting atop her bed in a long silky dressing gown, legs crossed, head resting on one hand as she read the book propped open before her. Her brow had the slightest crease of concentration. 

Then, to Severus’s delight, Lily reached a hand up and began to twirl a chunk of her flaming hair. He pressed both hands flat against the glass, longing to reach in and stroke her hair himself. How soft it must feel! How nice it must smell! Like a candy cloud, he imagined. 

Severus stayed crouched at the window and watched until Lily, after several yawns, closed her book and placed it to the side. She reached over and tugged the chain to her bedside lamp, eliminating the gentle glow that illuminated his object of affection. Severus was left peering at his own reflection in the dark glass. It was an ugly sight, an unwelcome reminder of his unsightly features. He turned away and hurried home, visions of Lily in her dressing gown dancing in his head.

When he settled back down under his covers, his mind flashed between Lily and the cat, her red hair and its gray fur, the rise of her chest with each breath and then the sunkenness the cat’s chest had taken on after Severus methodically broke its ribs.

That night, he wet the bed again.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus stared down at his feet as he shuffled them against the concrete. He slouched, knowing his mother hated it, and jammed fisted hands into the pockets of the oversized coat she insisted he wear despite the muggy heat.

“Chin up,” Eileen said as she peered down at him. “It’ll be alright.”

Bodies pressed them on all sides, a steady clatter of footsteps and conversation. Severus’s gaze swept the station until it latched on to a woman struggling to untangle her purse straps from her luggage handle. Her hair fell down her shoulders in windswept bundles of red. She wore denim jeans pulled high and a thin cotton shirt tucked in. He watched her lips mouth swear words as she fumbled with her things. He looked her up and down and wondered if Lily would wear jeans to the station.

“Severus? Are you listening?” Eileen’s voice broke through his fixation and Severus swung his eyes back to his mother. He felt the presence of all the people around them like an oppressive summer heat. He could feel sweat pooling under the collar of the coat and he could hear his heart struggling away inside his chest.

“No,” he said and her lips thinned.

“Pardon me?”

“I’m not listening to you. Why would I? You’re a drunken good-for-nothing-”

Eileen’s hand lashed out and Severus dodged it clumsily, leaving space for her fingers to find purchase in his hair. He hissed as her nails dug into his scalp and she jerked his head close to her mouth as she bent down.

“Don’t think I’ll take it from you too,” she said with quiet fury. Her breath ghosted warm and moist over his ear. She gave a final rough tug and shoved him forward toward the brick barrier. “On with it, then. Happy school year to you.”

She was gone before Severus could work up a speckle of guilt. Then he was alone with a stinging head and sweaty, shaking hands.

Eileen had told him about the platform often enough that walking through was easy. It was standing in the corridor of the train, peering into compartments in search of a seat, that his nerves got the best of him. He rushed to the end of the train and found bathrooms there. He managed to fumble his way out of his jeans in time to avoid wetting them, though by a frighteningly slim margin.

Severus finished up and slipped out of the bathroom, stumbling right into a dark-haired boy with thin wire glasses. 

“Alright?” the boy asked with an easy grin.

“Watch where you’re going,” Severus snapped. He shouldered past the boy and into the nearest compartment which was mercifully empty.

He settled into a seat and stared out the window at the blurred landscape. As the hours passed he frequently climbed to his feet to look out into the train corridor, hoping to catch a flash of red hair. 

Night settled outside by the time his door slid open and a tall boy stepped in. He had wiry black hair and wore the funny clothes Eileen had told him about. They were little more than a black dress with longer drapings. 

“Duncan Jenkins, Prefect,” the boy said, pointing at a copper badge pinned to his robes. “Time to change into your robes.”

Severus glanced down at his coat and then out the window. “Don’t have any.”

Duncan cleared his throat. “You don’t have any robes?”

“‘S what I said, isn’t it?” Severus dug his fingers into his thighs and entertained visions of the Prefect’s head getting sliced cleanly off his body. Blood would spray - hit the compartment right above the door and there atop the seats - certainly drench Eileen’s beloved coat - 

“Where are your things?” Duncan asked and Severus twitched a glance over to see he was perched on tiptoes, looking up into the empty luggage compartment. “Are your parents Muggles? Didn’t someone from the school come?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Severus answered, meeting Duncan’s questioning eyes with barely contained fury. The Prefect lowered himself onto flat feet and shook his head slightly before leaving the compartment without another word.

The rest of the train ride passed quickly and uneventfully. Severus waited as long as he felt he could get away with before slipping out of the compartment once the train came to a stop.

His feet hit aged cobblestone as he took his final step off the train. He spotted Duncan next to a tall woman in robes and a pointed hat. Duncan gestured at him and Severus turned to take steps away from the pair.

“Snape, isn’t it?” the woman called out in a strong, clear voice. “Severus Snape? Wait a moment.”

Severus twitched with the desire to run away. He rubbed the spot on his head that still stung from his mother’s claws and lowered his head. He let the woman’s words and worries wash over him and responded as little as possible. 

An hour later he sat in a small, darkly lit office. A golden platter before him held a few sandwiches with funny looking filling and a handful of ladyfingers. Next to the tray was a goblet of what Severus guessed to be orange juice. He touched none of it and entertained himself by picking at a frayed seam on the side of his jeans.

The woman that brought him into the castle stood outside the door speaking with a fat mustached man and Severus caught snatches of their conversation - _most unusual_ and _distressing case_ and _poor boy_. He heard his mother’s name more than once as well.

Eventually the voices drifted away and he heard nothing. His stomach grumbled and Severus chewed his thumbnail as he contemplated the plate.

“Not hungry?” asked a soft voice from the doorway. Severus held still as the man approached. He kept a long flowing beard the likes of which Severus had only seen in films and his robes were not the black of the others but a shimmery magenta. In his hands he held a pointed hat like the woman had worn but in such poor condition that it would look perfectly at home in Severus’s closet.

The man settled into the chair behind the desk, placed the hat down on it, and looked at the sandwiches. “Silly question, wasn’t it? If you were hungry you would have eaten.” He pulled a stick out of his robes and shook it. The food and drink disappeared with a soft pop.

“Is that your wand?” Severus blurted, eyes fixed on the stick as it slipped back into the robes.

“Indeed,” the man said. “But we haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of this school.”

Severus thought of the food disappearing as he answered, “I’m Severus Snape.” He thought of what else could disappear. His father’s face drifted to the front of his mind. Maybe who else for that matter.

Professor Dumbledore stared at Severus and Severus stared back. As he did he felt the beginning of a headache pulse across his temples. 

“Severus, I remember your mother. She was an excellent gobstones player. She was also familiar with the required items of all first years.” 

There was no question posed. Severus went back to picking at his jeans.

After a few moments of silence, Professor Dumbledore continued. “We will take care of your belongings tomorrow. Tonight you must sleep and so you need a place to rest. Place this on your head.” There was no please and Severus chafed under the order but accepted the hat without a word.

The headache worsened the moment the brim touched his head and a soft voice rustled in his ear, “Oooh, you’re a naughty one. SLYTHERIN.”

The funny shout echoed in the room and Severus shoved the hat back to the headmaster. The old man accepted it and said, “Slytherin house shall be your home.” Severus noted a trace of distaste in his words although Dumbledore retained a pleasant smile. “There are three others - Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw - which your fellow first years were sorted into tonight. I apologize that you had to miss the feast but we needed to make some arrangements for you.

“Professor Slughorn, the man you met before me, is your potions professor and your head of house. He will take you to your room and settle you in. I only need one one more thing from you.”

Professor Dumbledore extended an arm across the desk so smoothly and quickly that Severus flinched. He felt a shameful heat unfurl across his cheeks as he realized what he’d done and straightened within his chair as much as possible.

Dumbledore’s smile dimmed as he held his hand out, palm up, and said, “Your hand, please.” 

Severus tucked his hands under his thighs and asked, “Why?” 

“You need a wand,” Dumbledore explained. “You should have made a shopping trip this summer where you would have selected one. Since you didn’t, this will be the next best thing. Put your hand on mine now, Severus, so that we may finish and retire for the evening.”

Dumbledore’s hand was dry and cool in contrast against Severus’s damp palms. Long thin fingers folded over Severus’s small hand, encasing it completely. Dumbledore lifted his wand once more and tapped his own hand with it. Strings of golden light wrapped around their hands before fading away into the darkness of the room.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said. Severus tugged his hand back as soon as he could and dropped his gaze from the headmaster’s blue eyes to his feet. “Professor Slughorn will be in shortly.”

Dumbledore left and Slughorn bustled into the room in his place. When he beckoned Severus out to the corridor, Severus slipped out of his chair and followed. As he walked he craned his head to each side, taking in large portraits with gilded frames and moving subjects. He spotted a statue that he could swear winked at him and the glimpse of a pearly figure that might have been a ghost floating through a wall.

Slughorn stopped abruptly before a stretch of stone and said, “Liberum mortis - remember that, boy, you’ll need it to get in later.”

A small patch of stones slid away into their neighbors and the ripple continued until a passageway of respectable size stood before them.

Severus tripped on the peeled toe of his right trainer as he hurried to follow Slughorn down the corridor, past a room stuffed full of dark leather furniture, and through a door into a room. 

This room held a bed made with gray sheets, a nightstand and wardrobe in matching mahogany, and a rigid leather armchair facing an unlit fireplace. It was small compared to the office and the other room they walked through but easily three times as large as Severus’s bedroom at home.

“Your room,” Slughorn said. “In the morning go to the common room - yes, that one - and follow an older student out to breakfast. You have potions first thing so you can follow me from there.” Slughorn pulled a pocket watch out of his robes and inspected it as he asked, “Any questions?”

Severus shook his head and Slughorn hurried out of the room.

Alone, Severus crossed to the fireplace and ran a hand over the stone. Its rough surface scraped lightly against his palm. His other hand slipped into his coat and pulled out the only object he’d brought to Hogwarts - a bundle of the notes his father had given him. 

There was a small decorative pot on the mantle. He lifted the lid and peered inside to find it empty. After a few sweeping looks around the room, Severus determined there was no better hiding place. He stuffed the money inside the pot and replaced it on the ledge.

Severus then stepped out of his shoes, removed his coat, and crawled into his new bed. 

When he woke in the morning, he found several parcels wrapped in brown paper and tied with string stacked on the nightstand. Inside he found sets of black robes, pointed hats compressed into flat squares, stacks of textbooks with odd titles, rolls of stiff yellow paper, and what seemed to be a large pot.

The smallest box was long and thin. Severus opened it. A polished stretch of dark wood laid nestled on a small velvet cloth. He placed his fingertips on the wand and a calmness settled deep in his bones. He thought again of the only magic he’d witnessed - the meal vanishing before his eyes and the golden string around his hand.

He dressed in the new robes, filled the provided bag with books, and slipped his wand into a pocket. 

A wand, he decided as he strolled out of the room, was only a tool. One person, a weak person like Dumbledore, might use a wand for little charms and tricks. Severus had other ideas.


End file.
